Orange Sunsets
by hopelesslyhalfhearted
Summary: orangesunsets tumblr com replace the brackets with dots and go there. that's your summary.


**Sam**

I hate alarms, I hate mornings. The house is silent, which is odd. Ben should be up by now, running around with Dad and Tommy, and Mom should be shouting at them. I suppose I should get up. I only have 2 hours until I'm meant to be meeting Hannah; she seemed pretty upset when she called last night, so I shouldn't really turn up late if she's got a problem she needs to talk about. But what harm can 10 more minutes sleep do...?

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I didn't sleep that long, I mean, I _couldn't_ have slept that long. Shit. Clothes. Jeans. I'll wear skinny ones, dark. Where are the ones with the faded knees? If I wear those I could just throw on a vest and a checked shirt and some jewellery and I'll be done. Right. Clothes, check.

Hair. Where's my brush? Seriously, this is ridiculous. How many places can a brush_ be_? It's always in my drawer, why isn't in my drawer? Ouch. It's on the floor. Man, those bristles hurt. Most other girls would have to straighten their hair at this point, but I've got this ultra thick head of hair, inherited from my mother, that naturally goes into really cute waves as if someone had spent hours styling it.

There done.

No wait, shoes. Pumps. They'll do. I can take them off once I get to the beach. I pick up a red pair and pull them on as I run down the stairs.

"Samantha," I'm at the front door when I hear Dad's voice calling my name from another part of the house, I think it's the living room.

"Can't talk now," I shout back, opening the door as I do. "Bye," I'm out. Good. Only a 5 minute car drive away, I must be on time now. I check my watch. No. I was meant to meet her 5 minutes ago and Hannah isn't the most patient of people.

Hannah better have a good reason for being upset. If it's just boy troubles I will be seriously pissed. Boy troubles are not worth missing the morning shower over. Especially Hannah's boy troubles. They're always about the same idiot. I wish she'd just get over him then we could actually talk about something new for a few weeks. I love her to bits though, so if it is about him, I'll sit and listen and advise when needed. Like I always do.

She's sat facing out to the sea and I can see her body's shaking before I'm even 10 metres away. I run as fast as I can, she's crying. If this is over that stupid...I'll kill him, I will actually kill him. Well...maybe I won't, I mean, he is a football player after all. I could get Dad to kill him. He was a jock in his day. He's probably a bit too old now come to think of it.

"Han," I sit down next to her and I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close to me. She's a lot shorter than me, which makes this easy for me to do. It would be easier for that ass of a boy to do it, but he's probably too busy trying to remember the name of the chick in his bed. I'll let her cry for a bit before trying to get her to talk. I stroke her hair and rub my hand in circles on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "What's up?" She carries on sniffing, not answering my question. Maybe I should guess. "Is it Alfie?" She shakes her head.

"Dad kicked me out." The tears are beginning to stop now; she's gone into that big gasp of air stage. You know when you're trying to stop crying and you end up taking really deep short breaths?

Hannah lives with her Dad. I guess it's lived now, seeing as he's kicked her out...but, anyway. Her Mom died when she was 12. I wasn't Hannah's friend back then. I know she committed suicide, everybody does, Mom says everyone was gossiping about it for weeks. Of course Mom didn't, she's not that disrespectful. Hannah doesn't talk about her Mom much, I've kinda figured it's a no go area, but she always talks about her Dad. Never good things. I don't think he's ever gotten over her dying. How do you even begin to get over something like that? It's bad enough when people just die, but when somebody has _chosen _to die? That must really suck.

"He says...he said...he knew I'd had sex with Alfie...and he didn't like it...he...he says I drink too much anyways...he's such a fucking hypocrite...how can he say _I _drink too much? I haven't seen him sober in...in...since Mom died...I hate him...I hate him..." I feel guilty for worrying about my morning shower now and complaining to myself about her troubles. I feel like such an idiot.

"He was probably just drunk, you know," I'm pretty sure my feeble attempts at comfort aren't going to do anything. "He won't have meant it,"

"He meant it. He's let me keep the truck. All my stuff's in it."

"You can live with me," I'm sure Mom and Dad won't mind and even if they do, they can hardly make her sleep in a truck.

"I don't know what..."

"Hannah!" We both turn out heads at the same time to see who called, there's a tall blonde running towards us. John. He's cute. Really cute. I haven't told you about him, have I? Hannah's twin. He's a whole new level of hot. His voice is hot too. Everything about him is hot, especially his long blonde hair swooped over his forehead or occasionally spiked upwards, with just a tiny amount of wax, stopping it from looking horrible and greasy. Ever since I was about 14 I've fantasised about what he'd looked like topless; that was until this summer, when I actually saw it. Trust me, there wasn't an ounce of disappointment, it lived up to _all _my expectations. Of course, I'd had to enjoy the view from afar, he'd been swimming whilst Hannah and I sat up in her room, but I enjoyed it just the same. It's a shame he's such a brooding recluse, it means I never get to see him unless I'm at Hannah's and even then he's in his room most of time and when he is out of it he doesn't speak to me. Maybe if he was a bit more sociable I could...stop it. Stop it Sam. Your best friend has been kicked out and you're sat here fantasising about her brother? What's wrong with you! Now you're talking to yourself in the third person. Great.

She's stood up hugging him when I finally drag myself out of my own mind. He's squeezing her tightly; seemingly not willing to let her go.

"I'm going to stay with Sam," He turns to look at me as she is saying this and it feels like my knees have turned to jelly, which is ridiculous. Nobody can actually _feel _like that, can they? It's supposed to only be in movies.

"For a bit." He says, not taking his eyes off me. I can imagine him having a British accent. Is that odd? It's just...he just suites being British, I'm not sure why. Unfortunately he's a born and bred Californian, so there goes my fantasy. "Then we'll have to work something out."

Another guy is running towards us; he isn't quite as tall as John, but he's got more muscle. He has dark brown hair and one of those chiselled jaw lines that makes you just want to run up to him and kiss it several times. I don't want to though. He's Alfie. And Alfie drives me insane.

Hannah lets him hug her. Which means they must be on good terms this week or that she's just so upset that she doesn't care that their arguing.

"Hey, Stripes," He's talking into her hair. It feels kinda awkward, just being stood here, watching what seems to be a private, personal moment. John looks unsure of where to look as well, so we end up looking at each other, which just makes the whole thing even more awkward. "Sshh, sshh, it's ok, it'll be ok," I think John must have called him, because he seems to know what's going on.

"We'll leave you guys for a bit," He's holding my hand, why the hell is he holding my hand? Now he's leading me away. I should stop him or something, he's not my boyfriend, he's not my friend, he's not a relative, why the _hell _is he holding _my _hand! Not that it doesn't feel nice, because it does, it feels really nice. But he's _John_! He's Hannah's brother!

"Do you want to go speak to your parents?" God, I hadn't realised we'd walked this far, too wrapped in my own thoughts as usual. He's pointing to a car, which I presume is his, so I guess he's offering me a ride.

"I think I'll just have some lunch and wait for Hannah,"

"Ok," He's looking at all the shops, not at me; maybe he's finding this as awkward as I am. "Erm...mind if I join you?"

"No problem," No, I didn't just say that. I didn't just say that. Breathe slowly. Slowly. Control. Fuck, he's staring at me funny. Smile. Smile at him. God, that was too flirty. Was it? Maybe it was too forced? Try again? No. Then I'll look like a freak. I can't walk around testing out smiles. Ok. Breathe.

"Crab shack or diner?"

"You choose," Amazingly enough John, I'm not that bothered about choosing the food establishment when you're looking at me like that, stupid boy. Stop staring at me. I'm not a leper.

"Diner," Wow, he didn't argue back. I was expecting a 'no you choose' argument between us. He's not like Hannah. He's walking away; I should follow him, right? God, now he's looking at me again. "You coming?" I'm just stood still, staring at my feet, what the hell am I doing? Great way to start.


End file.
